


Heaven's Grief

by LadyGoddessSephiroth



Category: Final Fantasy IV, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dark Comedy, Dominant Masochism, F/M, Loki Angst, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Loki Has Issues, Psychological Drama, Sadism, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:37:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGoddessSephiroth/pseuds/LadyGoddessSephiroth
Summary: She was raised by monsters. She knows them inside and out. So she won’t react to his mischievous behavior.He is a monster. And he’s trying not to let it bother him.(Loki falls right off the Bifrost and crashes through Rydia's roof. Now she's stuck babysitting him.)Takes place directly after the first movie.Crossover. Psychological. Dark. Humorous. Loki Logic





	1. Paint a picture

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters, world(s), quotes and chapter lyrics that are used to create this work of fanfiction are not mine. They belong to Marvel, Square Enix /Squaresoft and OneRepublic. Only the plot is mine. I am not profiting in any way, shape or form off of this work. If you desire to take me to court, prepare to squeeze blood out of a turnip. 
> 
> Author’s Note: If you are looking for sweet, misunderstood, victim Loki, fuck off. You will not find him in this story. 
> 
> Loki is a jerk. He’s a manipulative, selfish bastard. While I will acknowledge that he is a product of his very sad, dysfunctional environment, the truth is he loves himself more than he loves anyone else. He will use, manipulate and deliberately hurt the people who love him so that he can get what he wants. 
> 
> He takes advantage of anyone who feels anything positive towards him, viewing them as little more than a stepping stone so that he can reach his ultimate goal. People’s lives don’t matter to him. He enjoys madness, chaos and killing people. You can call this mischief if you want, but the end results of his “mischief” are usually someone getting hurt or even killed.
> 
> Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love Loki. I find him to be complex and thoroughly amusing. Unlike the rest of his family, he has a lot of layers. Once you get past his emo, entitled brat behavior, you’ll find someone who knows that they’re doing wrong, knows that they should care, but knows that they can’t stop being who they are. 
> 
> The ways that he tries to reconcile this is marvelous. It often results in him crying and having moments where you can see that he regrets his actions, brief though they may be. That doesn’t stop him from being a grade A jackass though. 
> 
> The way I portray Loki in this fic is based on the description you just read. While he will have some awkwardly cute moments, and moments where he is almost human, his desire to be king will outweigh anything and everything he feels for Rydia. The ways he tries to reconcile this what I find especially amusing. 
> 
> If you’re still reading this, prepare for a wild ride.

The last thing he remembered was letting go. 

Letting go and falling into an open hole, an open star. 

The Bifrost had been effectively destroyed thanks to his older brother. That was a point of contention for the tiny Jotun; he had almost had exactly what he wanted. But now he was back at square one: no throne, no plan, and still not recognized as Thor’s equal. He was simply an adopted frost giant, a traitor to the throne, and an outcast. 

An outcast with a severe headache. 

He groaned as he placed his hand over his forehead. His entire body felt like it did when Thor sat Mjolnir on his chest: heavy, humiliating. Frustrating. 

Well, maybe not humiliating, but definitely heavy and frustrating.

“The last time I had a headache this bad, I was drunk,” he muttered to himself.

It was the first time he’d gotten drunk actually. And then he’d gotten sick. Thor and his friends laughed at him while he puked behind one of the pillars. He’d gotten them back, though. Made them all sick enough to pray for death, and blamed it on some roots they’d come in contact with on one of their adventures. 

They believed him. He was a talented liar. His disarming smile and innocent features belied a terrible secret: he was a vengeful monster, one without caring, feelings, or remorse. He always had been. He always would be. 

But that stray memory had nothing to do with the pounding in his skull, or the throbbing in his back. The pain reverberated up his spine, through his limbs and twisted his core. It was nearly unbearable, mostly because it was annoying. 

He wondered if he was dead. He kept hearing voices. Whispers, harsh and commanding, lingered in his ears. If he focused enough, he found that he could understand them - which meant he must have been somewhere in the Nine Realms. 

“If I’m on Midgard I’m going to kill myself,” he sighed dramatically. Of course he wouldn’t, but Loki was a drama queen. And drama was probably warranted right now, all things considered. 

“What’s Midgard?” one of the voices asked. Loki frowned as he tried to place it. It sounded like a young boy. 

“I don’t know,” another voice answered. A young girl. She was probably related to the boy, since they sounded so much alike. 

“Hey, dude, you gonna open your eyes or what?” the boy asked impatiently. 

“Palom!” the girl chastised. “That is so rude!”

“No, it’s rude that he’s talking and hasn’t opened his eyes yet,” Palom objected. “Seriously, I am not giving him another sponge bath.” 

Loki’s frowned deepened, but he still didn’t open his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to face whatever this place was. 

That didn’t stop him from speaking. “Another what?”

“Sponge bath!” Palom said again, emphasizing every syllable individually. “I’ve already seen you naked once. I can’t unsee.” 

_ That _ made the Prince open his eyes. 

“Naked?” he repeated, shooting straight up. 

He immediately regretted it. That simple motion made him feel like all of his muscles were being pulled so tight they would snap at any second. He collapsed back onto the pillows and glared up at the ceiling. It didn’t take him long to figure out he was naked, even if he was under a blanket. That just added to his annoyance. 

A pretty little girl came into view. Her big, doe eyes were full of childish wonder. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. “Please don’t move,” she said quietly. “You had quite a fall.” 

“Through the roof,” he heard Palom add. 

She glared in his direction. “Palom, please!”

“What? Rydia’s roof is busted man. It’s gonna take them at least a month to fix it.” Loki heard shuffling before a second face came into view. “And you shouldn’t even be alive,” the boy said matter-of-factly. 

Palom looked exactly like the brown-haired girl, except he wore a quirky, devil-may-care expression. Loki surmised they were twins, and rolled his eyes. Just what he needed. 

“I’m gonna go get Rydia,” the girl said. 

“Great,” Palom smirked. “Because I am done washing naked guys. Never doing that again!” he called after her as she walked away. 

He turned to look back at Loki, who was wearing an I-am-going-to-murder-you-slowly expression. The boy hardly cared. He sat on the edge of Loki’s bed as if they were great friends. “So how do you feel?” he asked. 

“Like I want to strangle you,” Loki answered honestly. 

“Yeah, try it man,” Palom grinned. “I’ll hand your ass to you on a plate.” 

Loki glared at him and sat up. “You...arrogant little shit…!” 

“If I smell at all like shit it’s because I’ve been cleaning yours up for about a week,” the boy answered, holding out his hand to the side. Loki could see a spell forming on the boy’s fingertips. He was, for a brief second, intrigued. But that intrigue quickly turned to rage at the thought that some little milk-drinking toddler would dare to challenge him. 

Loki might have been in pain, but it wasn’t paralyzing. He could forgo it to put the little peon in his place. The child may have known magic, but he did not know Loki’s magic. And he would not be threatened by a  _ boy _ .

Loki’s green eyes glowed as his own magic began to gather into one of his hands. He’d fire first. He’d only needed to fire once.  

“Palom! What do you think you’re doing?! He’s my guest!” 

The boy immediately backed down at the sound of the new voice. He slid off of the bed and sighed, rolling his eyes powerfully. 

“He said he wanted to strangle me,” Palom confessed honestly. 

“I don’t blame him,” the voice mused. “You’re a handful. Go outside and help your sister.” 

Palom mumbled something under his breath, but retreated nonetheless. 

Loki couldn’t see the owner of the voice, so he kept his spell waiting. He wasn’t sure where he was but he wasn’t going to be threatened by anyone else. 

She came into sight, and he found himself staring harder than he should have. She was so... _ green _ . The first thing he noticed was her vibrant green eyes and hair, followed by her pale, pale skin. She was slender, petite, and  _ young _ \- barely old enough to be called a woman. Perhaps most importantly she was wearing green and gold,  _ his _ colors, and he thought he’d never seen them look more... _ intriguing _ .

His spell subsided entirely, subconsciously. She could not possibly be a threat. Not with an innocent, sweet,  _ sickening _ smile like that. 

“I’m sorry,” she said apologetically. “He still has a lot to learn.” 

“Haven’t you taught him to respect his elders?” he asked blithely. He may have been caught off guard by her looks - by the bright, glowing, golden stars on the green sleeves of her outfit - but he hadn’t lost his callousness. He was still himself, he reminded himself, and he would not be caught off guard by an unreasonably cute face. 

“He’s barely toilet trained,” she laughed. The sound of it was almost musical. It grated on his nerves to hear it. She was an enchantress, he decided. No one could be that appealing without some kind of magic involved. 

He had to be on his guard. 

“Let’s see your head,” she offered gently. 

She approached him with the regal confidence of someone who belonged in a royal court, but her home (he assumed it was hers) suggested that she was a commoner. There wasn’t really much to look at. Just a couple of beds, and a table with two chairs. That’s all he could see, anyway. 

She reached for him and he withdrew, leaning away from her touch. He didn’t know her from a hole in the wall. Truth be told, she made him uncomfortable. He felt that there was something about her that he couldn’t place. He didn’t want to trust her, so he wouldn’t. Trust was easily traded, and Loki’s trust was a rare commodity that he had only ever given out once. Once, and he had been a fool to give it. Look at where he was now. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she assured him. She stared at him with those bright, intelligent green eyes of hers. Eyes that held his gaze, even as he glared hatred and death at her. Eyes that never blinked or looked away, even as she slowly pressed a hand to the back of his head to feel for damage. 

Her fingers worked through his jet black hair, rubbing his scalp in a reverent sort of way. She was exploring, but being careful, and still holding his gaze. It was as if she were trying to tame a wild animal, a beast. She wasn’t challenging him. She was merely assuring him that she meant him no harm. She was not an enemy. 

He blinked, wondering if he should be worried that she could communicate so well with him without uttering a single word. 

She hit a tender spot, causing him to hiss and pull away. Her spell was broken. He glared at her, reaching up to the back of his head to feel the knot she’d hit. He didn’t remember hitting his head, but it wasn’t entirely unlikely. He had fallen a long way off the Bifrost. 

“It’s a lot smaller than it was a week ago,” she observed.

He looked at her cautiously. “You mean I’ve been here a week?” 

She nodded. “You fell right through my roof and smashed your head on my fireplace. I honestly didn’t think you’d live. You landed in such an ugly, twisted position.”

So the boy was telling the truth. He had fallen through her roof. That explained why he was in so much pain. 

“I’m Rydia,” she announced as she sat on the bed next to him. “What’s your name?”

“I am Loki, Prince of Asgard,” he answered. He tried not to sneer when he said it, but he failed miserably. He decided he didn’t regret his actions. She should show him some respect. He may have been an outcast, but he was still of royal blood.

“Well, Prince Loki, will you let me look at your injuries?” she asked humbly. “Please?”

He felt completely disarmed by her question - not the question itself, but the way she asked it. He looked at her, honestly looked at her, and in that moment, he could genuinely say he had never come across someone who was so... _ innocuous _ . 

But wasn’t that his game? To be the innocent bystander when really he was the one pulling the strings? Was she pulling the same thing on him? 

She certainly looked the part. 

“All right,” he permitted after a few moments of mulling it over. Honestly, he just wanted to see what she was going to try to do to him. He was naked in her bed. She might have thought he was harmless. If she tried anything, she’d find out how wrong she was. 

Gently, very gently, she placed her fingers on his shoulder. She had such little fingers. They were soft, calloused, but not in an unpleasant way. He watched them trace a purple bruise up to the crook of his neck. His skin prickled pleasantly under her touch.

He absently wondered why he wasn’t healing as fast as he should have. Then again, he’d never fallen off the Bifrost, into another realm and through the roof of a house before. He really should be dead. Perhaps he should just be grateful that she was there to take care of him and try to mend him. 

Loki wasn’t one to take gratefulness too far. A simple “thank you” would suffice. Then again, he didn’t like being indebted to people either. 

He jerked when her fingers brushed the sensitive area behind his ear. His green eyes glared at her, but the look she gave him was passing and uninterested. He felt her nails graze his neck, and a shiver ran down his spine. He was starting to think she wasn’t checking for injuries at all.

In passing he didn’t blame her. It wasn’t like he  _ wasn’t _ good looking. However, he wasn’t interested. Even if he was, this was the wrong way to go about getting him interested. 

Loki was keenly aware that he hadn’t had the pleasure of a woman’s company in some time. She was running her fingers, her  _ hands _ over his exposed skin, leaving nothing unturned. It was irritating, if only because it was pleasurable and he didn’t want it to be. He was hurting, both physically and mentally, and he was annoyed. This was no time to be thinking about bedding a girl he had only laid eyes on two minutes ago. 

A  _ girl, _ he reminded himself. A little slip of a thing that was carefully kneading his tender skin and making him growl. His injuries were little more than bruises, but he was still sore, and everywhere she touched him reminded him of places he didn’t know hurt or even existed until she acknowledged them.

Feather-light fingertips grazed over the curve of his ribs, and down the firm expanse of his stomach. Her touch wasn’t at all personal or goading, yet he felt like he ought to respond to it just the same. His fingers twisted in the fabric of the blanket covering him, aching to do...something.  _ Anything _ .

When her hands tangled in the blanket and began to pull it down, he finally reacted. 

He grabbed her wrists and held them close to him, glaring at her accusingly. This wasn’t a  _ game _ , and even if it was, he wasn’t in the mood to play it. Not after the events that just passed. Not with his failed attempts of dominating Asgard so fresh in his mind. 

“Are you quite finished?” the annoyed Prince asked. 

She just gave him a confused look. “Do you want me to stop?”

“I hardly see how undressing me allows you to check my injuries.”

“I had to clean you up,” she said matter-of-factly. “You were covered in blood and...ceiling.” 

Well he couldn’t argue with that. 

“You’re healing rather well,” she continued, as if he weren’t holding her captive. “I sent the twins to get some more elixirs. I think you should be OK after a couple of weeks.” 

He rolled his eyes and let her wrists go. A couple of weeks. He should be alright in a couple of days. At least all right enough to walk. Then he could walk right out of there and figure out what he was going to do next. 

“Are you hungry?” she asked him. 

He shook his head. He really wasn’t.

“You should eat anyway,” she advised, standing up off the bed. “You haven’t had anything. I don’t want you to get dehydrated.” 

He snorted. She sounded like his mother. 

“Why do you care?” he wanted to know. “I could accept your hospitality, then kill you in your sleep.” 

“You could,” she admitted. She went into another part of the house and came back with a pitcher and a glass. “But you wouldn’t get away with it.” 

He watched her pour water into the glass. It was so crystal clear he wondered if it were enchanted. She handed him the glass, and he took a drink. It was cold, almost ice cold, and ridiculously refreshing. 

“Why’s that?” he asked between gulps.

“My friends would hunt you down and kill you,” she said simply. “You wouldn’t live very long.” 

Loki smirked. It was a wry but amused expression. “Is that so.” 

She went to sit on the other bed, which was directly across from his. “It is.”   
  
Loki smiled deviously into his glass. “Well, I do love a challenge.” 


	2. Of the perfect place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rydia is such a troll.

It wasn’t Rydia’s choice to stay in her childhood home.

She had only come back to check the space beyond the fireplace. There was, supposedly, some heirlooms from her mother in there, including a tiara. She had just come back from investigating when Loki crashed through her roof and smashed into the fireplace.

Or rather, smashed the entire fireplace.

When the dust cleared she found him lying in the ruins of the fireplace, covered in blood and dust. He was twisted, crumpled, bruised and broken - but very much alive.

She summoned Asura to help her move him to her bed. The Queen of Summons did what she could to heal him, but she advised Rydia to let him rest. Rydia agreed, because she didn’t want anyone else to die in the vicinity of her home. So she kept a vigil, making sure he was clean and having people help her change the sheets on a daily basis.

Palom and Parom just happened to wander into town about three days later.

They said they were visiting and came by airship, but Rydia thought it was an odd stroke of luck that they just showed up. She showed them her visitor and Parom immediately volunteered their services. Palom didn’t like the idea, but his twin insisted, so he went along with it.

He soon found out that cleaning up an unconscious person was not fun. There was no way to make it fun either.

For his part, he was glad to be going back to Baron to ask Cecil and Rosa for some elixirs. And Rydia was glad too. Parom was an angel, but Palom was a demon in a child’s skin.

Funny how they were twins, but still complete opposites.

Now she had some quiet time to herself. Even though Loki was awake, he was more interested in taking in his surroundings than acknowledging her presence. She was fine with that. She liked the quiet. The fact that he had threatened her life earlier meant very little to her.

Perhaps she would take him seriously, if she didn’t know she could make him a pasty smear on the ground with just a word.

After asking if he wanted to clean himself, she led him to the bath. His legs were wobbly from being laid up for a week. He was stiff, sore, and far too proud to accept her help. She gave it to him anyway. The fact that he was naked didn’t bother her at all. It didn’t seem to bother him either, so neither one of them addressed it.

While he was cleaning himself up, she was getting dinner ready. It was just a humble meal of fruit, vegetables, dip, cheese and water, but he shouldn’t have been eating anything heavy anyway. She would have made soup or stew, but she didn’t have a fireplace.

He emerged just as soon as she was finished cleaning up and preparing the food. When she saw him, Rydia realized that she had forgotten to get him something to wear. Fortunately, he had taken care of it himself. He was wearing black leather, of all things, offset by green and gold. He looked very much like a prince, and she thought that he was passing charming.

He certainly had an ethereal type of handsomeness to him. His emerald green eyes were so piercing, wide and observant. They drank in everything, including her. She had never felt quite so scrutinized; at least not since Asura had first laid eyes on her. But that had involved four faces. Loki had just one.

She moved to put the food on the table, careful not to spill anything. She was aware that he was watching her. For a brief moment she allowed herself to feel very small. It reminded her of when she had first gone to the Feymarch. They were all so much bigger, grander and more powerful than her. She was so tiny. It was intimidating and perhaps a little bit scary.

But the monsters hadn’t been unkind to her. They had simply never had a human in the Feymarch before. She was new and different, and they were unsure how to treat her. Loki’s gaze was nothing like that. He was watching her as if he were trying to see into her, _through_ her. If he could, he would unravel her. It was _unnerving_.

Yet she comported herself as if he were not there. She placed two plates on the table, two glasses, and a serving tray filled with dinner. She moved the flowers in the vase to the side to make more room for the pitcher of water. She thought to get a bottle of wine, but it was probably a bad idea. For his first few days awake, he should drink plenty of water, just so he wouldn’t get sick.

When she was finished, she turned to him and gestured to the table. “Please, have a seat,” she requested.

He did so, crossing the room in just a few steps. He was tall, but not awkward. His movements were confident, purposeful. He moved a bit better than he had when she led him to the baths, perhaps because of the steam from the baths.

He made a face when he saw the food on the table, as if it were somehow beneath him to take in such a humble meal. Rydia tried not to let the lilt of amusement through in her tone, but she was quite sure she failed.

“Is something the matter?” she asked as she sat across from him.

“Surely there’s more,” he insisted. His eyes and his voice were equally scrutinizing.

She laughed. “You’ve been out for a week, and you just woke up,” she reminded him. “Let’s see what you can handle first.”

He rolled his eyes powerfully, but begrudgingly accepted her words. “Fine,” he agreed crisply.

She nudged the tray at him, indicating that he got first pick.

He took the grapes, the apple slices, a half a pear and some cheese. Rydia went to retrieve some utensils for both of them, then set about cutting up the food he left her to make herself a salad.

“Where exactly is Asgard?” she asked idly. Dinner conversation would distract her from the fact that she was entertaining a very spoiled prince, who did not think her hospitality was good enough.

“From here, I am not sure,” he admitted between bites of fruit. He seemed to especially like the grapes. Rydia smiled. Grapes were her favorite food. She had some every chance she got.

She left again to retrieve two plain cloth napkins. She was out of practice when it came to setting a dinner table properly. She hadn’t done it in years. Not since her mother died. She hoped he didn’t say anything about it.

She offered him one as she sat back down in her seat.

He took it with all the elegance of royalty. “Thank you,” he said. She was taken aback, but pleased he hadn’t forgotten his manners.

Loki finished chewing and wiped his mouth before he spoke again. “Where is here?” he asked.

“The Blue Planet,” she answered. She scooped a bit of dip onto her salad and mixed it up to give it an even coating.

Loki snorted. “That’s original.”  

Rydia smirked and shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth. She would entertain him later. Right now she was hungry. 

She hadn’t eaten all day, too busy trying to keep people away from her strange visitor. They insisted on bringing her food, and gifts, and she was very grateful. But she was also very drained. She hadn’t had proper rest in a week, and her self-neglect was starting to catch up to her.

“...Your table manners are beyond appalling,” Loki suddenly commented. “Were you raised by animals?”

She looked up at him. His face said he was simultaneously fascinated and horrified at the way she was eating. At that moment, she knew the right thing to do - the _proper_ thing to do - was to wipe her mouth with the napkin, apologize, and try to eat like a civilized person.

She did the exact opposite.

She swallowed, quite aware that there was food all over her face, and probably between her teeth. But she cared so little in that moment. The fact that he would dare judge her after she had spent seven days taking care of him was grating.

“Monsters,” she said with a grin. Loki made the most disgusted face, because bits of chewed spinach, broccoli and strawberries was never appealing. She chose that exact moment to resume both eating and ignoring him.

“Yes, well, I think I’m quite done eating,” he concluded. He placed his napkin on his plate to confirm his statement.  

Rydia shrugged and kept eating. She couldn’t care less.

She thought for sure that he would get up and leave, but instead he just sat there and watched her eat. As much as it absolutely horrified him to watch such a cute little thing consume food as if she were Volstagg, he was also intrigued. Did she always eat like that? He privately wondered if she could beat him in an eating contest.

Probably not, but it would be incredibly amusing if she could.

When she finished, she cleared the table. Loki drank some more water (he was surprised that it was not only cold, but also sweet) and sank into his own thoughts.

He had failed. That much was certain. And if he were anywhere in the Nine Realms, Heimdall would have seen him by now. His skin prickled at the thought of the Gatekeeper. Such defiance.

Yet he couldn’t open the Bifrost to retrieve him. His brother had made sure of that. So for now, Loki was safe.

He was, however, keenly aware that once the Bifrost was fixed, they would come for him. And he was very aware of the retribution that would be waiting for him. He had no plans to go back to Asgard without being thoroughly prepared. If he could not sit the throne through his normal course of trickery and lies, perhaps he could combine it with force.

Force would require an army.

An army sounded good, but it would probably be impossible to raise in this place. Should he conquer this world, then, and see what he could plunder from it? Would he be able to find artifacts and magic strong enough to break down Asgard’s fiercest warriors?

Doubtful.

_No, Loki,_ Odin’s voice said in his head. It fully agreed with his notions of this place being hopeless.

One of the other realms then. Or perhaps, he could find a way into another realm from this planet. Finding secrets was his specialty. He just needed a guide.

He looked over at Rydia, who was busy cleaning up.

She would suffice.

Ah, but he could not just ask her to show him her planet. She might grow suspicious. She may have been young but he had seen traces of cleverness in her answers to his questions. She did not buckle under his gaze, or even blush. She carried herself with an elegance, a confidence he did not expect from a commoner, and she was clearly not afraid of him. He sensed no fear, or even nervousness. He could not intimidate her, as he had suggested that he could kill her, and she took it as if he had just taken a breath. She did say her friends would hunt him down and kill him. Perhaps he should start there.

He hardly thought that they would be good enough to do such a thing (he was a _god_ ) but maybe one of them could point him in the right direction. He would just have to subtly implant the suggestion.

“Do you plan to keep me inside then?” he asked innocently. “Am I your prisoner, Rydia?”

The way he said her name forced her to look at him. It rolled off his tongue so pleasurably, she thought he may have sang it.

She blinked. “I hardly think I can hold a Prince hostage.”

“Then I am free to leave?”

She shrugged and went back to cleaning. “You are, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You don’t know anything about this world, and we don’t know anything about you.”

“Are you to be my guardian and my guide then?” There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, and a note of flirting laced in his words.

Rydia, who was quite unused to being flirted with (save for Edge, but she felt that was more the fumblings of a spoilt, inconsiderate brat) looked at him again. Her face was completely blank. She simply did not know how to take his suggestion.

And Loki, who was unused to being denied by any woman (although it did happen more than he cared to admit) braided slivers of silver into his next statement.

“I think I should like that,” he admitted, his voice low and lilting.

Rydia just stared at him.

His green eyes were half-hooded, and his lips were curled into the most charming smile. A smile that belonged on a serpent. A viper’s smile.

She rather liked serpents.

“If that’s what you want,” she said, and went right back to cleaning.

Puzzled by her (lack of) reaction, Loki decided to try a different approach.

“Is it what you want?” he asked. “I do not want to put you out. ...Unless you want to.”

That reference either flew right over her head or she chose to ignore it entirely. “I am friends with kings, queens and princes,” she told him. “Keeping you close is not a problem.”

“But is it what you want?” the god of mischief asked again. He needed an anchor somewhere. Otherwise he would have to find some other way to manipulate her.  
  
“I want to get some rest,” she answered honestly. “And I want you to do the same. Get back in the bed, Prince of Asgard.”


End file.
